


French Blue

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I didn't say I wouldn't fall in love with you, I said I'd try not to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Blue

A/N: Many thanks to absynthedrinker for the beta and the brilliant advice and ideas and to eeyore9990 and oldenuf2nb for the hand holding and advice.  
This fic was written for slashfest's Multi fandom fest - Round 8 for tmkline

****

French Blue

**August, 2013**

Harry entered the bar, pausing while his eyes adjusted to the darkened space. He scanned the room, smiling at the familiar and yet updated surroundings, until his gaze settled on a man at the bar. He was immaculately dressed and sporting a head of familiar blond hair. Crossing the room in several quick strides Harry stopped behind him, the subtle scent of Cartier filling his senses. 

He leaned forward and said softly, "What was it that the absinthe fountain said on it? I can't remember. Fifteen years is a long time."

"Harry Potter," the man replied, turning.

"Hello, Draco," Harry said. "Err…fancy meeting you here." He took a deep breath as he fought the heat that was dotting his cheeks.

Draco took a long draw on his cigarette, slowly exhaling before he spoke. "I never stay anywhere else in Paris; it’s not that much of a long shot. The real question is what are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, then patted it down. Draco reached over and pulled on a few tufts. "Still nothing for that mess, is there?" Draco asked quietly and gestured to the seat next to him. Harry sat and the bartender was immediately in front of him, placing a white napkin on the bar, waiting to take his order.

"I'll have a dry martini," Harry said with a smile. "Three measures of Gordon's, one of Stoli, half a measure of Lillet Blanc and two dashes of bitters. Shake it until it's ice cold, strain it into a chilled martini glass and then add a large thin slice of lemon peel."

The bartender nodded and moved off to fix the drink. Draco turned toward Harry, smiling. "A Vesper? Did you think I wouldn't remember?"

"Do you remember, Draco?" Harry reached out and laid his hand lightly on Draco's arm. "Because I do." He paused, searching the grey eyes. "I've remembered that weekend every single day for the last fifteen years. I remember running through the rain and stopping for a café noisette under that canopy just to be dry for a few minutes. I remember our trip to Hermes to purchase those scarves for your mother…the ones you never did give her." Harry was delighted when Draco's cheeks turned a faint pink even though his aloof expression didn't change. "I remember how you felt and smelled that chilly afternoon. I remember the colour of the room; it was the palest blue I've ever seen." He looked down at the bar. "I always think of it when I pass your mother's house in Belgravia. It's the nearly the same colour. I call it _French Blue_."

His eyes lifted back to Draco's face. "I've never forgotten the feel of you under the sheets, the sound of the rain in the courtyard below and the smell of the breeze coming in through the curtains."

"You have a good memory, then." Draco looked down at his cigarette, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry took the cigarette from Draco and put it to his lips. He inhaled and then exhaled slowly. He smiled and ran a hand down Draco's arm. "You made it impossible to forget."

**♥**♥**♥**♥**

**June, 1998**

Two men ran down the street, weaving between the few people out and laughing in spite of the steady drizzle of rain. They were a complete contradiction in every way. One was fair-haired with skin as pale as porcelain, dressed in designer clothing. The other sported naturally tanned skin, as if he spent time working in the sun, his clothing a mish mash of "off the rack" pieces, and his hair as black as the darkest night. Ducking under a canopy, the fair-haired man pulled out a pack of Gauloises, lit one and inhaled deeply.

"Must you, Draco?" the dark-haired man said, batting smoke out of the air. "That's a nasty habit and you promised to quit when the war was over."

"I did no such thing," Draco replied, taking another long drag. "I merely promised not to smoke as much. This is only my second today."

"Second or twentieth, it’s still vile."

"Says the man who had no qualms about pilfering a few in the bar last night," Draco said with a laugh. "Face it, Potter, you're a closet smoker who likes to pretend he's not."

Harry picked the cigarette from Draco's fingers, placed it in his own mouth and inhaled deeply. "I only do it so I can't taste it on you," he said handing it back to Draco.

Draco laughed and took the smoldering butt from Harry. He took a final drag and flicked the remaining end into the street, where it sizzled before dying in the rain.

Looking around, Harry gestured with his head as he spoke. "Let's head over to _Comptoir_ , we can sit under the canopy and have a café noisette, I'm chilled to the bone."

"I still have some shopping I need to do," Draco said, but moved towards the cafe, "but a bit of caffeine wouldn't be unwelcome."

"For the love of Merlin, Draco," Harry huffed in exasperation, "we've done nothing but shop. What else could you possibly need?"

"I need what I need," Draco replied, crossing the street and stopping under the bright blue canopy of Comptoir. He looked down at the damp chair, discreetly waved a hand and dried two of the wooden chairs at the outside table. He sat in one, kicking the other out from the table for Harry to sit.

After they had ordered, Draco pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a flick of his lighter. He held it out to Harry, who shook his head. Draco shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. "I saw a scarf in Hermes that I must have for mother. I'll never forgive myself if I don't go back and pick it up."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that look," Draco chided, "you've nearly emptied your vaults on gifts for Weaslebee and his family, not to mention the collection of Hugo's works you shipped to Granger yesterday."

"Have not," Harry said, shooting Draco a wry look. "And besides, nothing I spent would come close to what you dropped on that little trinket for Parkinson. How many karats was that again?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's not real, Potter," he said with a huff, then his expression turned sly. "Of course, we're not telling her that."

"Of course not," Harry agreed with a lopsided grin. He leaned his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his hand, studying Draco's face with a fond smile.

Draco frowned at him. "What's that look for?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "You're just cute, that's all."

Draco's affront was not feigned. "Cute? Did you just call me cute?"

Harry grinned. "I did," he replied. 

"Potter, I am not cute. I may be devastatingly attractive. I may even be occasionally sinister and intimidating– " Harry laughed aloud, "–but I am not cute. And if you ever want to get laid again in this life, you will take that back. Now."

Harry held his hands up, palm out, trying to stifle his laughter. "Sorry, sorry. Not cute. Sinister, intimidating. Not cute."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "And don't you forget it."

Harry straightened his leg, hooking his foot around the back of Draco's ankle and running the top of his shoe along his calf. 

"If I tell you how scary you are, am I forgiven?" His eyes had gone half lidded and his expression slightly seductive. Draco wasn't unaffected by the look in those green eyes, but he was not going to let him off the hook that easily. 

"This would all be very sexy if I didn't know that you were soiling my trousers with those filthy trainers of yours."

"Merlin, you're obnoxious," Harry said, laughing in spite of himself.

"Obnoxious, I may be," Draco agreed. "But I'm also a spectacular shag."

"So you say," Harry said with a nonchalant shrug. "It's been so long I can scarcely remember..."

"Long!" Draco kicked away the encroaching foot. "Twelve hours is long?"

"Any time we're not in bed is too long," Harry replied, and he reached for Draco's hand, linking their fingers.

Draco rolled his eyes, but a smile played across his lips. "Fine, but we're still going to Hermes for that scarf. That blue kiosk," he pointed down the street, "is a Apparation point. We can Apparate over to the kiosk on rue Boissy d'Anglas, from there it's just down the street."

Harry sighed.

"And if you're a good boy," Draco said with a wry grin, "I'll take you over to that little crepe stand you love so much – it's just around the corner from Hermes – for one of those atrocious banana and Nutella concoctions."

Tossing a few Francs on the table, Harry laughed as he stood and took Draco by the arm. They dashed down the street to the Apparition point.

The trip to Hermes took longer than Harry had anticipated, but he was placated when Draco kept his promise and took Harry for a fresh banana and Nutella crepe. While Harry ate his crepe, they wandered around the neighbourhood before Apparating to a kiosk just down the street from their hotel. 

On the way through the lobby, they passed the bar. Draco stopped and looked inside. He smiled widely and turned to Harry. "So, Potter," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, "you ready to take another walk on the wild side?"

Harry looked past Draco into the bar. "What wild side?"

Draco grabbed Harry's elbow and guided him into the room and over to the bar where a tall silver and glass structure stood.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"That," Draco practically purred, "is liquid nirvana."

"Liquid what?"

"Oh, my poor uneducated boy. Today is your lucky day."

"I thought last night was my lucky night?" Harry said with a laugh.

Draco rolled his eyes. "This isn't about sex, Potter, it's about a taste unlike any you've had before and a feeling you can't get any other way."

"So what is that thing?"

"That _thing_ , you heathen, is an absinthe fountain."

"Why do you need a fountain to drink absinthe?" Harry wondered aloud.

Draco gestured to the bartender. "Please have my packages sent to my room and then set up the absinthe fountain for my friend and me."

Harry nudged Draco. "Are you sure? This looks...complicated."

"Honestly, Potter," Draco laughed. "Live a little. Do you trust me?

Harry nodded.

"Then watch and learn."

They took a seat on the high bar stools as the bartender poured ice into the large glass globe and then filled it with water. He took two glasses and set them on the bar.

"I've never seen a glass like that," Harry said.

"No, I wouldn't imagine." Draco replied. "It's called a pontarlier glass. See this part?" He pointed to the large bulb just above the pedestal. "That's where the absinthe goes." As if on cue, the bartender poured a healthy measure of absinthe into each glass. 

"I'll take over from here," Draco told the bartender. 

"The trick," Draco continued, "is to be certain that the water in the fountain is ice cold. Next you place that spoon on the top of the glass and set a cube of sugar on it."

"There are holes in the spoon," Harry said, holding one up and looking through them.

"Precisely. Now if you've finished playing..."

Harry handed the spoon to Draco and watched as he set the glasses up with the spoon and sugar cube directly under a spout.

"The key to enjoying absinthe is to control the speed of the water. If it's too fast, too much water will go into the cup while not melting the sugar cube."

"What if it's too slow?" Harry asked.

"Well, then it's just too damn long until you can enjoy your drink."

Draco turned the handle slightly and watched as the first few drops of water came out of the spigot. He shifted the glass so the water dripped directly onto the sugar cube. Satisfied with the speed of the drips, he set another spigot to drip on to a sugar cube adorned glass. 

Several minutes passed and soon they watched the absinthe turn milky white and green in colour and then became opalescent. 

"Erm, Draco?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose. "How come it's not clear anymore?"

"It's supposed to do that," Draco replied. "It happens when the water mixes with all the volatile oils in the absinthe. The effect is called louche," he saw the confused look on Harry's face, "French for opaque."

Harry nodded, but the look on his face had Draco believing he was not convinced.

"Trust me, Potter, one sip of this and you'll be convinced."

"Yeah convinced you've gone round the twist," Harry muttered.

"Beg pardon?" Draco asked.

"Nothing...proceed." Harry moved his hand in a circular motion as he spoke. 

When the glass was about three-fourths full, Draco turned the spigot off and lifted the spoon off the glass before using it to stir the mixture. He repeated the procedure with the other glass and set the spoon on the bar. He handed Harry a glass and took a sip.

"Go ahead," Draco urged. "Try it."

Harry looked down at the glass and back up at Draco. He closed his eyes and took a sip. "It's sort of like liquorice," Harry said with surprise. He took another sip. "It's good."

Draco smiled at Harry. "I'll refrain from the _I told you'd so_ simply because I want to savour my drink." He closed his eyes and sipped at the milky liquid.

They sat, silently, sipping at their drinks for several minutes. 

Harry finished his drink and set the glass on the bar. He nudged Draco with his elbow. "I want another one of these. It's really good."

"Good Lord, man," Draco admonished, looking at the empty glass. "It's a drink to be savoured...not sucked up like a cheap lager."

"Oh don't be such a spoil sport," Harry laughed. "While you finish _savouring_ your drink, I can start making us another." He reached for an absinthe spoon, when his movement was stopped by a firm hand on his arm. 

"I don't think so, Potter," Draco said. "You've absolutely no clue what you're up to. This isn't a toy."

"I'm not an idiot. It's not that complicated." Harry replied. "I was paying attention."

Draco recognized the hurt tone in Harry's voice. "I never said you were an idiot. Simply that you've never done this and..." Harry's shoulders slumped and Draco's words drifted off.

"Well then," Draco said, pushing the spoon across to Harry. "Have at it; show us what you can do."

Harry smiled. He waved the bartender over and requested two clean glasses and spoons. He poured the correct amount of absinthe in each glass, set a spoon on top of each glass and placed a cube of sugar in the middle of each spoon. He slid the first glass under the spigot and turned the knob. Water cascaded in a rush onto the sugar cube and into the glass. The glass was nearly full before he could shut it off.

"Bloody hell!" Harry cried out. "That wasn't supposed to happen!"

Draco stifled a snicker. "I don't imagine it was." He eyed Harry waiting for him to start again. "Well, don't let that stop you. A man could get parched waiting for you."

Turning back to the fountain, Harry took a clean glass and began over. This time he turned the spigot very slowly and stopped when he had a steady, but light drip. He set up the second glass and soon the water was dripping onto that sugar cube. When the cubes were melted, Harry used each of the spoons to stir the drinks, before handing one to Draco and taking a sip of the other.

"Not bad," Draco said dryly. 

"Not bad!" Harry said, clearly exasperated. "Not bad?! It's perfect!"

Laughing, Draco took another sip. "Well done, Potter," he said and sealed his words with a quick kiss before turning back to his drink.

"Whoa," Harry said suddenly. "I feel...good."

"Did you expect to feel like shite?" Draco asked. 

"No," Harry said shaking his head. He slipped from his bar stool moving closer to Draco. "I mean...I feel _good_." He leaned in and pressed his erection against Draco's hip.

"Potter," Draco hissed. "We're in the middle of the bar."

"Didn't you ask me if I was ready to 'walk on the wild side'?" He pushed in and rubbed Draco's hip, taking another sip. "Was that just talk?"

"No, it wasn't just talk," Draco muttered under his breath, sending Harry a quelling look. "But I'm not of a mind to give the entire bar a show right at the moment. Control yourself while I finish my drink, and then we can 'walk' wherever you want."

"Is that a promise?" Harry asked, wiggling his brows. Draco huffed in exaggerated irritation.

"Honestly, Potter, for the love of Merlin back up."

His words were spiced with anger, but his eyes were mild, and Harry leaned closer, his nose brushing Draco's chin.

"You can't resist me," he breathed and was gratified by the gooseflesh he saw raise on Draco's pale throat. "Drunk or no. But you especially can't resist me," he paused, his tongue touching Draco's ear, "between your legs. How much longer is that drink going to take?"

He saw Draco's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, attempting another sip. He set the drink down on the bar. "I believe I might be done here."

Harry chuckled darkly. "I thought you might be."

**♥**♥**♥**♥**

They walked from the lift, Harry's hand firmly planted on Draco's arse, his finger running along the centre seam, pressing in, teasing one of the most sensitive places on Draco's body.

Draco was breathing through his nose in slow, deep, audible breaths while Harry unlocked the door. They walked through and Harry quickly spun Draco so his back was against the wall as he kicked the door shut with his foot. He began to nibble on Draco's ear while pressing his erection into Draco's hip again.

Reaching his hands into the mop of inky black hair, Draco pulled Harry's mouth to his and kissed him deeply. Draco's tongue mapped out Harry's mouth and he growled in response. He pushed Harry towards the bedroom; they stumbled, kissing, through the suite.

Harry stopped in the doorway and waved his hand towards the bed. When the covers folded themselves neatly at the foot, Draco gave him an amused look.

"Saves time later," Harry said with a shrug and began pulling at Draco's shirt. They fumbled, pushed and pulled as shirts were wrenched free of trousers, and buttons were haphazardly undone.

Draco still had one arm in a sleeve and his trousers were around his knees when Harry pushed him backwards onto the bed.

Harry wouldn't release his lips long enough for Draco to pull back and yank his arm free. "Let me get undressed properly, you idiot," he complained. Harry just smiled and sat up onto his knees, grabbing the shoulders of Draco's expensive shirt and yanking it free.

"That's silk," Draco said darkly, even as his voice sounded breathless. "Tear it, and I'll tear a strip off of you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Harry scooted down his legs, taking Draco's trousers with him. "Big talker." He pulled the trousers and shoes off with one jerk, then paused long enough to rip off his own shirt and jeans.

When he straddled Draco again, they were both still wearing their pants and nothing else.

"As fetching as you look in those boxers, Potter," Draco said dryly, "it's going to be somewhat difficult to fuck in them."

Harry scooted forward until he was sitting nearly on top of Draco's erection, and rocked teasingly. "What's your hurry, Malfoy?" he said, green eyes bright. "Got a train to catch?"

He leaned over then and opened his mouth on one of Draco's tight pink nipples, circling it with his tongue, and Draco hissed, his hands going into Harry's hair. 

"You," Draco said between clenched teeth, his back arching, "are a bastard."

He felt Harry smile against his skin. "Nope; orphan. You're clearly confused." When he bit down, Draco's neck arched back and he uttered a hoarse cry. 

"Harry Potter, here," Harry went on, licking his way down to Draco's navel. "Nice to meet you." He sent Draco a cheeky grin, then went up onto his knees, grabbed Draco's hips and flipped him unceremoniously onto his stomach. Draco felt his pants pulled down his legs and off his feet. 

Climbing over him, Harry stretched across Draco's back, so that when he undulated his hips the damp head of his cock slid sinuously between Draco's arse cheeks. 

Draco arched his back, spreading his legs, the absinthe mixing with the pure unadulterated pleasure in his veins. "Stop teasing, Potter," he muttered. "I don't need foreplay tonight."

"Maybe I do," Harry responded.

Draco felt the heat and weight lift from his back, and sighed expansively. 

"Fucking drama queen," Harry said, laughter in his voice. "Like it's such a hardship to just lie there."

"I'll have you know..."

Whatever it was that he was going to 'have Harry know' went right out of his head when he felt his arse cheeks being pulled apart by strong hands. Cool air flirted with his opening, and he gasped when Harry's hands momentarily shifted to his hips, and urged him roughly to his knees.

"If I have bruises..." he gasped even as he felt those strong fingers sink once again into the firm flesh of his arse.

"You'll have bruises," Harry muttered. "You just won't remember getting them." And then his mouth was on him, and his tongue was there, moving over the furled flesh, making Draco's toes curl, and his head fell forward. 

"Oh, gods," he groaned, fingers clenching the bedding. "Oh, gods, that mouth..."

He felt Harry's chuckle, and it added a layer of sensation over what was already almost too much. He reached back to one hand to clutch at Harry's hair, but his hand was batted away. And then that insidious tongue was stiffened, and he felt it pushing against him, glorious and wet and madness inducing, and his cock lurched, painfully hard. It bobbed beneath him, and Draco slid one hand along the bedding, reaching down...

"Oh, no you don't!" 

Harry caught his hand and held it flat against the bed while his tongue went back to work, loosening him, pressing inside, and he whined. He was so hard, his cock throbbing. If he didn't touch himself, he thought he might go mad. Resting his face against the bed, he tried to slip his other hand down, had just curled it around his prick, when he felt a sharp, stinging slap on his arse.

"I swear, Draco," Harry muttered, and Draco felt the bed give behind him, then his elbows were grabbed and his arms were pulled behind him. "If you won't fucking behave yourself..." 

Draco gasped as he was flipped over onto his back, the bed bouncing when he came into contact with the mattress. He opened his mouth to say something cutting, but his voice died in his throat when Harry leaned over the side of the bed and came back up with the Hermes box in his hand.

"What the bloody hell are you doing with that?" he asked his brow furrowing.

"Making sure that you do what I tell you," Harry replied, and tossed the lid of the box across the room.

The silk scarves that he'd purchased for his mother slithered onto the bedspread, and he stared at them in consternation.

"I don't know what you think you're doing," he said haughtily, "but those were expensive..."

"And I'm sure quite sturdy." Harry gave him a cheeky grin, then grabbed one of Draco's wrists in his hand, held it against the headboard, and looped the scarf around one of the spools, tying a secure knot around both.

"You are not tying me to the bed with my mother's scarves!" Draco said, outraged.

"Funny." Harry laughed. "It would appear that I am." He grabbed the other wrist even as Draco tried to bat him with the attached hand. Harry pressed it against the headboard as well, tying it in place. Draco strained against the soft bonds, but realized with both a dawning sense of horror and a sharp spike of arousal that he couldn't release his arms.

His cock was straining dark pink against his flat belly, the tip leaving a gleaming drop of pre-come on his pale skin. Potter sat up on his knees and studied him with pleasure on his flushed face.

"These scarves were for Mother. How am I ever supposed to look at them again, Potter?" he growled, yanking against the silk restraints.

"With fondness, I imagine," Harry replied, looking far too pleased with himself.

"I will _kill_ you," Draco hissed. "Slowly. Painfully."

"So you've promised; on several occasions." Harry grinned. "But you can't right now, can you?"

And with that he grabbed the back of Draco's thighs and shoved his knees up against his chest, Harry's mouth dropping once again between his legs.

He licked the underside of the rigid cock, then mouthed Draco's balls one at a time before licking a strip down his perineum to his quivering opening. Once again, he stiffened his tongue and thrust it inside.

"Ah, gods!" Draco gasped, his head moving on the pillow. "Touch me, Potter. Please...touch me!"

Harry lifted his head long enough to give him a silly smile, his mouth wet, his lips swollen. "I am touching you." He squeezed the back of Draco's legs for emphasis.

"My cock, you half wit," Draco sneered.

"Oh, you want me to touch your cock?" Harry said brightly.

"Death. Dismemberment. Slowly."

Harry laughed, released Draco's legs and leaned over the side of the bed again. When he straightened, Draco felt his fingers lightly stroke his cock and closed his eyes in bliss. They shot open in outrage a moment later when he felt something tight stretched around his cock, squeezing.

He looked down and gasped when he saw a thick rubber cock ring, holding the blood trapped in his quivering erection.

"You did not," he gasped, fighting against the scarves. "You did not."

"I did," Harry said with all appearance of complete calm. He reached for something at his side, and Draco saw him flip open the cap on a bottle of lube with his thumb before pouring a liberal coating onto his fingers. His breath stalled in his throat when Harry reached down and spread some over the sensitive furled skin.

"Oh, gods," he murmured, his breath coming in short gasp. "Oh, gods." He knew that it wasn't terribly articulate, but it was about all he was up to at the moment. The smile faded slightly from Harry's face, but his eyes stayed on Draco's face, suddenly dark and intense. He rubbed his fingers up and down the crease between Draco's arse cheeks, up to his perineum to press just behind the constriction of the cock ring.

Draco's whole body jerked at the almost painful sensation. 

The pleasure was so sharp, so intense that he heard himself gasp, helpless. "Harry," he said, his breath hitching. "Harry, please..."

Potter's eyes softened as he slipped one finger inside of Draco, and Draco mewled, trying to press down against it. 

"Easy," Harry murmured, lifting his other hand to press down on Draco's belly, holding him in place. 

"Easy," Draco gasped with a wild laugh. "Easy? You son of a bitch..."

Harry curled his finger and pressed up, and white lights exploded behind Draco's eyes. "Ah!" he cried out, his neck arching. "Oh, fuck!"

"Soon," Harry replied, pulling his finger out, pressing back in with two. He found the same spot again and began to massage it even as his other hand slipped down and curled around Draco's cock. 

Now utterly incoherent, his orgasm trapped behind the cock ring, Draco slammed his head back down onto the pillow, his chest so tight that air couldn't seem to move through it. 

"You bastard," he finally managed. "You're going to fucking kill me!"

"Not kill you," Harry replied mildly. "Drive you a bit mad, maybe..."

"Mad?" Now Draco's laugh did sound hysterical, and he knew it. "Mad? Too late. Too late!!" His head thrashed back and forth and pleasure so sharp and bright it brought tears to his eyes and made him writhe. "Please, Harry," he sobbed. "Please. Please!"

Harry's hand tightened on his cock for just a moment and Draco thought he would black out from the intensity of it all. A moment later, Potter's fingers slid from his arse and he felt something thicker, spongier and yet hard press against him. Potter's cock slid inside of him slowly, and he felt every inch of it as if stretched him, filled him. Potter began to thrust slowly, still stroking Draco's cock, the ring blocking his release now so tight it felt as if it were cutting off circulation to his soul.

He tried to stay coherent, but it was impossible. It was too much, too powerful, and he looked up into the green eyes above his, his heart in them, as tears slipped down his temples into his hair.

"Please," he said one last time, his voice a raw croak. 

Harry stared at him for just a moment longer, then reached between them and pulled the cock ring free.

The return of blood flow was unlike anything Draco had ever felt in his life; like fire streaking through his balls, into his cock. He knew that he was crying out, screaming really, when Harry pushed his knees to his chest and began to thrust into him, hard. Lost in a wash of sensation so intense he felt his consciousness slipping away, he was dimly aware of Harry's muted roar, of the way his body stiffened. Draco sank down into blackness as he felt Harry collapse on his chest.

Draco opened his eyes slowly, wondering for a moment why he was unable to breathe. He tried to move his hands and realized Potter was on his chest and his hands were still tied to the headboard. He jerked his body in a vain attempt to roll Harry off of him. "Potter," he muttered weakly, his voice hoarse. "Potter!" he repeated louder. "Get off me and untie my hands."

Harry raised his head and smiled. "You look good like this. Might just leave you tied up and naked."

"Potter...Harry..."

Shifting so he was at Draco's side, Harry leaned over the bed and retrieved his wand from his jeans pocket. He waved it in a complicated move, muttered a few words and Draco's hands were loose and they were both clean. He reached down and pulled the covers up over them. 

"What a perfect way to spend a rainy afternoon," Harry said with a yawn. 

Draco murmured in agreement, as they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

**♥**♥**♥**♥**

When they woke, the room was dark and the sound of water on the pavement told them the rain had not stopped. They ordered a light supper from room service. Harry answered the door when the food arrived and returned to the bed with a platter of fruit and cheese. They ate in bed, sharing kisses between bites.

"I can't believe we have to go back to London tomorrow," Draco said. 

Harry set the plate down, his expression darkening. "You had to bring it up, didn't you?" He stood up from the bed and began to pace. "Do we really have to go back? Couldn't we just stay here? Owl everyone and tell them..."

"You fancy men?" Draco said sarcastically. "Now that's a conversation I want to hear. You telling the entire Weasley clan that you, in fact, prefer it _up the duff_ to marrying their precious daughter."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't imagine it would be much better for you, telling the Greengrass family that as lovely as their daughter is – well she's missing a cock...something you're quite fond of sucking."

He sat on the edge of the bed and Draco moved to sit beside him. "We knew it wasn't forever," Draco said quietly. "We have obligations. Whether we like them or not."

"Promise me," Harry said. "Promise me that we'll be together one day."

"I can't promise that," Draco said, sounding resigned. "I told you when we started seeing each other that I had obligations. I told you not to fall in love. You told me you could do casual. Remember?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't fall in love with you, I said I'd try not to." 

Draco sighed, then drew Harry into his arms. "We have the rest of tonight. Let's not think about tomorrow yet. I plan to _return the favour_ you gave me earlier."

Harry smiled before pulling Draco into a deep kiss. Draco chose to ignore the fact that the smile hadn't reached Harry's eyes.

**♥**♥**♥**♥**

 **August, 2013**

"You're a sentimental fool, Potter," Draco said, studying the man at his side. "Just how long did it take for you to get your courage up and come looking for me?"

"I wanted to find you from the day I read about your divorce in the _Prophet_ ," Harry replied, eyes solemn. "How's Scorpius taking it?"

"Probably about the same as your children are handling your divorce. Are the Weasleys even speaking to you?"

"Do you really care if they are?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco replied shortly. Again, he studied the face in front of him, so much the same and yet so different. "Why are you here, Harry?" he asked finally, his voice soft.

Harry hesitated, then raised a hand and cupped Draco's cheek. "Fifteen years ago you told me not to fall in love with you. I tried, Draco, I really did. I went home. Did what I was supposed to do. I married Ginny, had a family." He sighed. "And every night I thought of our time in Paris. Finally I couldn't pretend any longer. I told Gin I wasn't happy."

"I'll bet that went over well," Draco said, his lips twisted sarcastically.

Harry shrugged. "Better than I expected, actually. I think she always knew that she wasn't what I wanted, what I needed. In the end, I think she just wanted more for herself." He ran his thumb over Draco's lips. "And you? How was your conversation with your ex-wife?"

"Not nearly as civilized. Lots of screaming, crying, broken glass. Astoria is quite dramatic. But in the end a very large monetary stipend can soothe anyone's hurt feelings." He paused, studying the still handsome face in front of him. "And you still haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"

Harry leaned closer, his eyes level. "Because this is where we ended. It seemed fitting that this is where we should begin again." He looked at Draco, waiting, clearly nervous and yet hopeful. 

"And if I say no?"

Harry's smile faded. "Then I go back to London, alone, and move on with my life."

Draco stared at him and then sighed, shaking his head. "You're a hopeless romantic, Potter."

A slight smile began in Harry's eyes before spreading to the corners of his lips. "And you're a sarcastic twit, _Malfoy_." Harry leaned closer to Draco. "So, am I going to London," he paused, his smile widening, "or up to your room?"

A laugh was startled from Draco's throat and he shook his head. "You haven't changed at all."

Harry's expression mellowed. "Not true," he said as he studied Draco's face. "I've learned a lot in the last fifteen years. I've learned that living up to other people's expectations is a load of shite. I've learned that trying to please everyone else only guarantees that you'll end up miserable. I've learned," he touched the back of Draco's hand gently, so softly that Draco saw it, more than felt the touch, "that you can have a wife and children and a white picket fence, but it doesn't make a place a home. That takes the right person, Draco." He took a deep breath. "That would take you." 

Draco swallowed, faintly alarmed at how tight his throat was. He waited until he knew his voice would be steady before he spoke again. "Well then, at the risk of sounding like a sentimental sap," he murmured, leaning close to Harry, their mouths almost touching. "Welcome home, Harry," he said as their lips met.

Finis


End file.
